


Don't Call Me Teaboy

by chamilet



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamilet/pseuds/chamilet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto has had about enough of this “teaboy” business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call Me Teaboy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jooles34](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jooles34/gifts).



> Written for Torchwood Fest's Christmas Fest (over on LJ).
> 
> I tried to make it fit into canon, maybe post-S1 while Jack is away?
> 
> A/N It’s a bit intimidating to write something for the talented jooles34, but here’s the old college try. She asked for Owen/Ianto, canon, power play, s/D but not too angsty. I hope this suffices, although it may not be what you had expected with the pairing:) Thank you to czarina_kitty for the beta!!

"You called me ‘Teaboy’ three times today." Ianto paced behind Owen who was kneeling, naked at his feet.

"I did," Owen admitted, a thrill coursing through him at what he knew was to come.

"You also made fun of me to Gwen."

"How...," Owen checked himself. "Yes, sir."

"What should your punishment be?"

"The crop, sir," Owen mumbled.

"I didn't quite catch that," Ianto took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

"The crop, sir," Owen said more firmly.

Ianto opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of kid leather gloves, pulling them on and interlacing his fingers, molding the leather to each digit. He went back to the drawer and pulled out a leather crop, slicing it through the air. He saw Owen flinch at the sound and smiled. "Hands on the back of the couch."

Owen stood and stretched his arms to the back of the couch, assuming the position. His shins rested on the front of the cushions, taking some of his weight. His cock grew hard in anticipation.  
"You will count them," Ianto ordered.

"Yes, SIR," Owen yelped as the first thwack landed on his thighs. "One."

By seven, he was dripping pre-come onto the leather of the couch; after thirteen, it was all he could do to remember the count. At twenty, his legs shook and he could barely hold himself up. His cockhead was dark purple and he was painfully hard.

“That looks like it hurts.” Ianto ran one gloved finger down the length of Owen’s dick.

Owen came with a shout as he shot white, hot spunk onto the brown cushions.

Ianto tutted his disapproval. "Did I say you could come?"

"No, sir," Owen said breathlessly.

“Clean it up,” Ianto ordered as he placed the crop and the gloves back in the drawer.

Owen considered his options for half a second before sticking out his tongue and licking the salty fluid from the leather.

Ianto’s eyes darkened with lust and he grabbed Owen by the hair and pulled his head back. “Innovative.”

Owen caught his smirk just in time and instead affected a submissive gaze.

Ianto reached for his belt buckle and let go of Owen’s hair. He saw Owen flinch at the snick of his belt as he pulled it free from his trousers. He watched Owen’s countenance change to desire as he put the belt down and undid his zipper. He pulled his cock out, stroking it slowly. “Suck me off.”

Owen reached up and undid the button on Ianto’s trousers, pulling trousers and boxers down to pool on the floor. He wrapped his arms around Ianto’s legs and brought him close, rubbing his stubble on the tender flesh of Ianto’s inner thigh. Ianto inhaled sharply and grabbed hold of the corner of the couch, nails leaving half moon indentations in the leather. Owen lingered a moment, inhaling Ianto’s scent before curling his tongue underneath one testicle and sucking it into his mouth. He held onto Ianto’s legs tighter, supporting his weight as Ianto’s knees buckled.

Ianto watched through half-closed lids as Owen moved to his dick. His tongue licked a stripe from root to tip. Then his mouth opened impossibly wide as he swallowed Ianto down to the root. Ianto began thrusting into the warm heat. Owen’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked and slurped messily at Ianto’s cock. Ianto thrust faster, the sounds becoming his sole focus. He gripped hold of Owen’s head and pulled him closer, thrusting faster and harder, not letting him up for air. He heard Owen snuffling as he adjusted his breathing to compensate for the sudden change. Owen’s hands move up to his ass and held him closer, tighter. Ianto felt his balls tighten close to his body and Owen hummed, the vibrations sending Ianto over the edge. He emptied himself into Owen’s greedy mouth.

Ianto watched as Owen licked him clean of every last drop of come, pulled his trousers and boxers back up and tucked him in carefully. Owen’s chin was shiny with saliva, his cock twitching its way to being half hard, his skin pink from exertion and arousal. Ianto stroked his hair. “I think I’ve taught you a lesson today.”

"Yes, sir.”

“You may dress and leave.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Ianto watched as Owen dressed. “I trust we will have no issues tomorrow.”

“Of course not, sir.”

Both men smirked knowingly as soon as Owen was out the door.


End file.
